


Misplaced Affection

by Unsentimentalf



Category: Robin Hood BBC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Allan's betrayal Robin starts taking things out on Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misplaced Affection

_ **FIC Misplaced Affection Will/Robin** _

Title: Misplaced Affection  
Author: Unsentimental Fool  
Fandom: BBC Robin Hood  
Pairing: Will/Robin  
Rating: 15  
Word Count: 4,800  
Summary: After Allan's betrayal Robin starts taking things out on Will.  
Notes/Warnings: Contains bad sex. This takes place shortly after ep 2.5 Ducking and Diving

Will knew that he wouldn't be running much further.

His lungs were protesting every breath, his legs were iron, heavy iron, not strong. He'd stopped picking routes to throw them off some time ago; now he just ran in as straight a line as the trees would allow, head down, near blind from sweat in his eyes.

They'd spread out behind and to each side of him, but he knew who was closest, who would be first to lay hands on him, and so he kept on running.

A familiar whistle from his left, up on the rise and he had a moment of hope. If he turned that way he'd run straight into John. That would do.

Will turned, felt a tug on the back of his tunic, swivelled in one final burst of energy to face his attacker and fell down into the empty space in front of him. Then the pain kicked in, searing across his back as he sprawled on the ground. He reached behind him- a graze, an arrow, he realised, And looked up.

Robin was leaning on his strung bow, as out of breath as Will himself. After his gasped breaths had eased he raised his voice. "Got him."

Will pulled himself wearily to his feet, saw with relief Djaq, barely winded, coming up from the dip on the right.

"Oh, well done, Will! That was far further than any of our runs." Her eyes scanned him. "Your back's hurt. What happened?"

"Too fast for his own good, aren't you, Will?" Robin's voice was cheerful. "He turned straight into the path of my arrow. Just a scratch though, isn't it?"

It was, in truth, no more than a scratch, if painful. Still Djaq insisted that it be treated. Robin was impatient. "We're miles from home. Much will be frantic if we're out much longer. Fuss over him quickly, and catch us up later." He jerked a head at John, who grimaced apologetically at Will and followed their leader.

Normally Will would have appreciated the time alone with Djaq, content to listen to her chatter, dropping in the occasional word when it was clearly demanded. But as he limped the slow miles home, refusing her shoulder for the aid of a branch, she dropped quiet, doubtless aware that he wasn't really listening.

He'd turned left. Into the path of the arrow, Robin had said. The arrow that had grazed his back. That made no sense. If he hadn't turned...the picture in his head played over and over, the arrow flying to where he'd been, punching through his spine, his guts.

No. Robin was good, none better. Would have seen the start of his turn. The graze might be deliberate, but no more. Or, more likely still, he'd been faster than he remembered; the arrow should have passed safely to his left but he'd run almost past its path before it had hit. Robin had never tried to hurt him. It was crazy to think so.

It was well after dark when they reached camp. Much was on watch and greeted them sleepily.

"There's a flatbread for you, Djaq, with some fruit I picked today. And stew in the pot, Will- just heat it up again."

The stew pot was empty. Much shook his head despairingly. "I told them to leave your share. I told them. I don't think we've got anything else. That will be John, greedy pig. No wonder he's so fat."

Will doubted that John was to blame but didn't bother to put him right. "It's all right, Much. I'm too tired to eat, anyway."

"Ah." Much looked embarrassed. "Robin put you on mid watch. Which should really start around now."

"That's ridiculous." Djaq was sharp. Will found half a flatbread in his hand, tried to return it, unsuccessfully. "Robin can't have imagined we'd be back this late, with Will hurt. I'll take the watch. Or we'll do without. We never used to have a mid watch."

"No." The last thing Will wanted was Djaq drawn into his troubles. "We need a watch because Allan," he stuttered over the name, tiredness, "Allan might have told Gisborne where we are. And I'll sit it, if that's what Robin said. Thank you Djaq, but no." He did start eating the bread though. Half the night awake in pain and starving seemed a little too much to bear.

Once he'd finally chased Djaq off to bed Will sat by the banked fire, listening to the call of the owls hunting little helpless animals and wondering how things had come to this.

It had started, of course, with Allan's betrayal. When Robin had discovered that there was a traitor in the camp he'd clearly not known what to do with his rage and grief. Punching Will might have been intended as no more than a ruse but Robin had put everything of his fury and pain into those blows. Will had seen that in his face, along with the unmistakeable gleam of satisfaction at hurting one of the people who'd hurt him so badly.

And then Robin had let Allan go. Will didn't know why, but he imagined that Allan had talked very fast, as he usually did. Not something Will had ever been good at. So Robin had come back and apologised for hitting him and everything had been all right. Except that it wasn't.

Why Robin chose to blame him for Allan's defection, Will didn't know. Maybe because he and Allan had been close, before. Maybe because Will was the one Robin had punched, back then when he hadn't known which of them to hate. Maybe because Will was the weakest, the least likely to protest unfairness. Maybe Robin just didn't like him very much.

Whatever the reason, Robin had made his life miserable for the past week. Will had kept quiet, hoping it was a passing bad temper, conspiring tacitly with his tormentor to keep it from the others. But in the last couple of days Robin had got almost vicious and Will had started to get unnerved.

This was the last straw. Whatever the truth of trajectories, there was no denying that Robin had shot an arrow dangerously near him, to scare him, and had cared not at all that he'd been hurt. He couldn't trust Robin any more and the realisation of that hurt far worse than the arrow had. He had no choice. Tomorrow he would leave.

It was a wet and cold morning, entirely appropriately. Will had sloped off without even saying goodbye and that had hurt. Djaq would think...he had no idea what she would think. But he didn't want to be responsible for breaking up the gang, didn't want people taking sides. Better to just leave. He should have gone with Luke weeks ago; still, he'll find his little brother now.

Hoofbeats behind him and he moved off the road automatically, dipping his head, trying not to be noticed, instinctive response to anyone on horseback. The horse was reined in and turned next to him in a splatter of mud.

Robin's voice, in that not really amused sneer that he was becoming accustomed to.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Will looked up into cold green eyes.

"I'm leaving, You don't want me around."

"I don't want you? Robin's voice was incredulous. "No-one wants you, Will. Haven't you worked that out by now? The only friend you had was a traitor and what does that say about you? You should have left with him, last year when you were plotting your little thievery and saved everyone a lot of trouble."

Will shrugged. He wasn't going to play that game. "I'm leaving now."

"No." Robin's voice sharpened. "I'm not losing another man to Gisborne. You don't get to betray us as well."

"I'm not going to Gisborne. I'm going to find Luke." This was pointless. Will shook his head slightly, started to move on down the road.

Something hit him in the back of the head and he was face down in the mud. He rolled up onto his knees to see Robin off the horse, chin jutting, voice shaking. "Don't you walk away from me, Will Scarlett!" As Will climbed to his feet Robin punched him in the face and he fell backwards again. A boot caught him in the groin, not full force but enough to have him doubled up, swearing.

"Don't pretend that hurt, Will. We both know you don't have any balls."

Robin was standing over him, voice cold and tight.

"Turn round and walk back to camp. If you're not there by mid afternoon I swear I will hunt you down and really hurt you. Get up and get walking."

Will didn't, when it came to it, have the guts to disobey.

He didn't have an explanation when he got back to camp, for his absence or the black eye. He just looked blankly at the others until they finally gave up asking. Djaq hovered, but he couldn't take the sympathy she offered, not without telling her the truth. And he owed Robin, he really did, far too much to cause that sort of trouble.

Two days later Will and John were sent to Nottingham, on market day. Will wondered briefly if it was a test, to see if he'd contact Gisborne, But he was fairly sure that Robin didn't suspect any such thing; that was just an excuse to hang his anger on.

Understanding Robin didn't make it any more comfortable. Will sighed and concentrated on the tasks he'd been set.

He walked past the entrance to the blacksmiths and someone grabbed his shoulder. His knife was to the man's throat before he'd consciously registered anything. A splutter from the darkness.

"Bloody hell, Will! You scared the life out of me!"

Will took a very deep breath, slid the knife back into its sheath.

"What do you want?" he said, quietly, not looking directly into the doorway.

"Just a word, Will. Maybe a drink? Just to catch up, like."

This was the last thing he needed. He turned to say so, and Allan stepped halfway out of the shadows, staring at him.

"Someone hit you, didn't they? What happened?"

"Fight," Will said tersely. "Look, Allan. I can't be seen with you. Even if I wanted to talk to you, which I don't. You betrayed us."

"I could tell you things about that." Allan caught Will's look, amended, "But we don't have to talk about that at all. I just want to know that things are all right with the rest of you."

"They won't be, if I'm seen with you. Go away, Allan, please."

His old friend had lost none of his persistence. Will eventually found himself in the dark back room of a house next to the forge sitting on a mattress (belonging, so Allan said vaguely "to a girl I know"), watching Allan unstoppering a large wineskin. Allan, he thought, looked jumpier than usual.

"How's he treating you?"

Allan grinned, slightly uncertain. "Giz? He's all right. Yeah. Bit of a temper, mind, but it's just words. No, we're good, him and me."

He frowned at Will. "So who landed one in your eye then?"

Will licked his lips. It couldn't hurt, just to have Allan know. "Robin."

"Right." Allan relaxed. "He did hit you pretty damn hard. Fooled me." He took a sip of wine, tensed.

"Hang on. That was a week ago. That shiner's fresh. He didn't do that."

"He did." Will glanced down at his hands, back up to Allan. "There's other bruises I could show you, too."

"You and Robin have been fighting?" Allan's voice was unbelieving.

"Not exactly. Gisborne's not the only one with a temper, these days."

Allan sat down close to him, passed over the wineskin. "Take a drink and tell me what the hell's been going on."

Will told him, in between draughts of wine, grateful to be able to talk to someone. His hands were shaking around the wineskin by the time he'd finished.

There was a silence, then Allan whistled. "Fucking nobility. They're all the same in the end. Bastards. Not being funny, but I reckon Locksley's better off as it is."

Will shuddered. "I lived in Locksley when Gisborne was in charge, Allan. Robin's bad moods don't begin to compare."

"Well, his temper's not doing you any good, is it? Do you want out? I could probably twist the man's arm, get you a place."

"No, No. Thanks but I couldn't do it."

"He's not that bad, really."

"He works for the Sheriff, Allan. The man who killed my father. It was Gisborne in Locksley when my mother died. I know you mean well, but you're on the wrong side, Allan. I'm not going to follow you there."

"So where will you go?"

Will shrugged. "I don't think I'll go anywhere. He'll get over it."

"Like tyrants always do." Allan was cynical. "You keep knuckling under, he'll just get worse. Stand up to him or get out, Will."

Easy for Allan to say, safe in Nottingham. "I'd better get back. John will be going crazy." He sighed, "It was good to talk to you. I wish you hadn't done it, Allan, really I do." And not just because Allan's defection was the cause of all his problems.

"Me too." Allan reached out a hand to Will's. "You take care, understand."

Will found John hunting through Nottingham's taverns. The big man greeted him with relief and irritation. "Where have you been? I was about to go and tell Robin you must have been captured. That's wine on your breath, too."

"Don't", Will said, awkwardly, "tell him I went off on my own. Please."

John's gaze sharpened. "You and Robin, There's something wrong, isn't there?"

"It's nothing. He's upset about Allan, that's all. I don't want to worry him any further."

John nodded, reluctantly. "All right. But n​ext time you go drinking, take me along, all right? After the work's done."

"Right."

Most of the way home, and Will saw the familiar figure strutting along the road towards them, arms wrapped around the bow over his shoulders. Something in the pit of his stomach turned over. This was Robin. Closer to him than anyone except family. He couldn't hate the man, didn't want to; all he wanted was things back as they were.

Maybe Robin had been thinking, felt the same way. Will tried a smile as the man reached them. Robin's eyes flicked straight past him, onto John.

"How did things go?"

"Good."

"Did you talk to James?"

James had been next on the list, when Allan had stopped Will. He hoped John had covered it.

John was nodding. "I saw him, yes." Pause. "Both of us, I mean." Will swore inwardly. Just shut up, John.

Robin's gaze had narrowed. "Both of you? You split up for some of it?"

Will wasn't going to lie. He said "Yes" just as John said "No."

Robin still hadn't looked at him. "John? Did you or didn't you?"

John shifted. "Yes. For a bit."

"And he asked you not to tell me?"

Low voice, uncomfortable. "He didn't want to worry you."

"Now why should that worry me, John?"

John cast an apologetic glance at Will. "Because he'd been in a tavern? He wasn't drunk or anything. Definitely not."

"No. I can see that." Robin smiled, apparently relaxed again. "I was on my way to see if I could find anything for the pot tonight. Coming along, Will?"

Will's bow was under his cloak. He nodded. This time he might be able to talk to Robin, sort this out.

Robin was cheerful enough as they made their way into the thicker woods, chatting about the people Will had seen in the city. Will breathed a little easier. Maybe the last few days could be forgotten.

"How was Allan?" The question was deceptively casual.

Will stopped walking. Robin turned to face him. "Why would I have seen Allan?" He was buying time, badly.

"Who else would you be drinking in Nottingham with?"

Will sighed. "He found me. I wasn't looking for him."

"But you were pleased to see him, no doubt."

"No." He hadn't been, not at first. "He betrayed all of us, not just you, Robin. I was angry."

"But he bought you a drink and you got over it. What did you do then? Cry on his shoulder? Ask for a job? Are you setting me up for another betrayal, Will?"

Will's temper snapped. He'd turned down the fucking job to come back here, to Robin's bullying and accusations. The words he needed didn't come so he swung his fist instead, connected with Robin's right cheek. Robin staggered back a pace, came forward, swinging, laughing.

Robin might have spent years fighting in the Crusades, but Will had been brought up with a younger brother. He had no intention of standing and trading punches; he launched forward, a leg hooking around Robin's and they fell together, all fists and elbows and feet and snarls. Robin was trying to break away, to get proper blows in, but Will knew what he was doing, ignoring the pain, trapping legs between his, twisting wrists and shoulders, partially immobilising the man. Around now Luke would normally concede defeat. Robin was still fighting, hurting himself more than Will. Will felt the man's misery and frustration in the tension under his hands and his anger fell away.

Robin was face down underneath him, arms twisted up over his back. Will bent down to the struggling man's ear.

"Robin," he said urgently. Robin stilled.

"For God's sake, Robin. I would never betray you. Not someone I love." He paused, "Allan hurt us all. I'm not going to leave like that. I'm not going to leave at all."

He rolled off the other man's body, onto his side. If Robin wanted to beat the hell out of him, let him do it. He'd not drive Will away.

Robin pulled his arms round to pillow his face, lay motionless, head buried in his arms, for some time. When he spoke it was muffled.

"God, Will. I'm sorry." He lifted his face and Will was shocked at his tears. "I'm sorry. I thought...I thought you'd go to him. That I'd lose you too."

Will shook his head. "Why the hell would I do that?"

Robin grimaced. "I thought...Never mind. I'm sorry. I should have trusted you. God, I shouldn't have hit you. Can you ever forgive me?"

Will pulled himself up onto his knees, reached out a hand to Robin's shoulder. Maybe it would work this time. "Yes," he said firmly, fingers closing, holding tight. "It's all right, Robin."

Robin pulled himself up to sit on the ground. "Oh, Will. I'm sorry." He stretched out his arms. "Come here," and Will was grateful to curl into the man's close embrace, cheek against cheek, physical closeness to banish the memory of distance. He pulled away far enough to smile at Robin. "Better."

"Yes." Robin's eyes were sparkling under the tears. "Oh yes." And he kissed Will.

Will froze, mind blank, then racing. That was Robin's tongue, pushing its way past teeth parted in shock. Oh fuck, the man was...couldn't be. Not Robin. Please.

Robin pulled back, arms letting him go. "Christ, Will. I'm sorry. I'm...it won't happen again. Ever. I'm sorry."

Will fought the instinct to punch him, or to run. This was Robin. He owed the man his life, several times over. He'd have been rotting in the ground near two years ago if it hadn't been for Robin. Things had been so bad, had seemed right again, and now Robin was on his feet, backing off, not looking at him, and that was so much not the reconciliation he'd hoped for.

"It's all right," he said, knowing it wasn't. "I was just surprised, that's all." Please God let the man leave it at that. But Robin had lifted his head, was looking at him with a spark of hope and Will knew that he didn't have the heart to extinguish it.

"I'm...less surprised now," he offered, tentatively.

"Yes." Robin's voice was a breath and he was back on his knees, hands in Will's hair , mouth on his. This time Will was determined not to seem to reject him. A kiss wasn't much. He copied Robin's movements, pushing his own tongue into the man's mouth, moving it around. That, at least, seemed to be right; Robin doubled his enthusiastic assault on Will's throat.

Were they going to be done soon? Will's experience of kissing had been distinctly chaste up to now. He couldn't imagine that anyone would want to do this for long. Robin's lunge forward took him completely by surprise; he fell backwards and Robin was on top of him, tongue still down his throat. Will resisted a moment's panic. Just Robin, he told himself. Nothing seriously bad. Just a bit of horseplay, showing affection, relieving the tension.

He was flat on his back now, and Robin was on top of him, one thigh between his, weight on one elbow, the other cupping his face. His weight shifted and Will felt pressure pushing rhythmically   
against his hip bone. Will went cold. Robin had an erection, was rubbing it against him. Oh God. Was this sex? Was he having sex with a man? He didn't want to have sex with a man. He'd not had sex with any women yet.

Never mind whether he wanted to; what if he couldn't? Any minute now Robin would want to know why he didn't have an erection. And then there would be apologising again, and crying and he couldn't stand that. In desperation he closed his eyes, pretended the featherlight kisses now raining on his cheeks and eyelids were free of scratchy hair. Imagined the weight on top of him lighter, smoother, naked; that nipples were brushing his lips; that a beloved voice was laughing gently as his hands gripped her hips and lowered her gently down onto his bare cock.

Which responded to the familiar fantasy with its normal enthusiasm. Even Robin's touch through his breeches served to excite not quell it. A murmur of satisfaction from above him, a couple of tugs to his breeches and he felt the chill air around his balls.

His private parts were exposed, swollen and hard and unsightly, and Robin was looking at them. Embarrassment, and anger, and under it all that adolescent terror; what if they're not meant to look like that? What if they're too small? He was waiting for Robin to laugh, could feel himself wilting under that intent consideration.

Robin spat on his palm, reached down. Will closed his eyes again, nauseated. Robin was going to touch his cock. This wasn't like any sexual fantasy he'd ever indulged in.

His cock had no such inhibitions. It was hard and demanding and now something was giving it what it wanted, rubbing it, warm and wet and just hard enough to make him gasp.

"That good?" Robin's mouth was by his ear. "Damn, Will, I want..." and he was quiet, teeth tugging at Will's earlobe as his hands moved.

Robin's erection was still pushing against Will's hip. He knew what Robin must want, knew, despite the remnants of his embarrassed anger, that he wasn't being fair. He reached down, careful not to touch Robin's hand squeezing the head of his cock, dragging him despite his repulsion ever closer to orgasm. His fingers touched the hardness in Robin's breeches and it jerked under his hand. He pulled his hand away as if burned. Oh God, he couldn't. Not the man's... No.

"Fuck, Will. Do it." Robin's voice was both desperate and commanding, and Will was used to obeying it. Two hands reached out, eyes still shut as he fumbled with laces. Robin's cock, hot and heavy, fell out from its restraints into his hands. Robin was kissing him again, tongue hard in his mouth. Will told himself not to be such a baby. His hands closed over the thickness. Part of him was comparing, the other part was willing himself on to stroke it. Robin pulled his mouth away.

"Fuck, yes. Please. Yes, Will, go on. God, Will, yes. That's, yes. Yes." The gasped string of words petered out as Will gained confidence, took his rhythm from Robin's own movements

There was a near familiar hardness under his hands. His cock was being caressed on its steady way to climax. Not so impossible to deliberately forget the intermediary. His hands moved, his cock reacted. Just jerking himself off, that was all, hot and hard and thinking about her, like he did every day. And the kisses were his fantasy, and the noises might be all his own. He lost himself in it, tugging hard on the foreskin, panting faster. Now; he squeezed, hard as he could, and a second later fingers were as tight as they could be around the head of his cock and he was coming in dizzy intensity, and then reality hit.

He'd just ejaculated into Robin's hand. Ugh. He opened his eyes a crack to see if the man was disgusted, but Robin was too far gone to care. Flushed under his beard, fringe plastered to his forehead, he was gasping for breath as his cock thrust insistently at Will's stilled fingers. Will closed his eyes again quickly. Get this done. He grasped the flesh again, pulled it back and forward as hard and fast as he could. Just come, he begged silently. Please. It was hard to hold on with Robin thrashing but he set his jaw and did the best he could.

A huge groan from above him and what seemed like endless gouts of sticky heat all over his hands and clothes. Unable to move without spreading the mess further, he lay quite still, feeling nothing but relief. Finally he opened his eyes. Robin, sweaty and flushed, was grinning down at him, delighted. Will essayed a smile back, watched the pleasure disappear from Robin's eyes.

"That wasn't to your taste."

"No," Will protested. "That was..."

He paused. Could see where his protestations might lead. He should have told the truth at the beginning.

"No. It was interesting. But...no. Sorry."

"I'm the one who should be sorry." Robin rolled off him carefully, faced away, relacing his breeches. "First I beat you up, and now I force this on you."

"No, it wasn't like that." Will desperately wanted to reassure the older man. "It was all right, really. I didn't mind. It didn't hurt."

Robin snorted. "It didn't hurt. The words every lover longs to hear." He glanced round, caught Will's expression.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. Again. Crap choice of words. Not lovers. We just tried something, once, and it didn't work. There's an end to the matter." He managed a smile, almost Robin-buoyant, and Will smiled cautiously back. "Right," he agreed.

"Damn, Will, I'm... I can't keep saying sorry, can I?"

"No. There's really no need." He sat up, wiped his hands on the grass, moved over to crouch next to Robin. He placed a hand on Robin's shoulder without hesitation at the contact.

"I do love you, Robin. Like my own brother. You must know that."

"Yes" Robin agreed, the smile unsteady but at least genuine. "Yes I know. Let's get back to the rest of them. There's just a few more sorrys that I need to say. And then," he grinned, "we're right again. And there's work to do."

It sounded easy, like everything that Robin proposed. Like everything that Robin proposed, it was going to be more complicated than that. Still, Robin's plans usually worked out in the end. He'd go with that. But he wasn't going anywhere near camp without a wash first. Will picked up his bow and walked quickly to catch up his leader through the trees.


End file.
